Harry Potter: The Next Generation
by catroyalnumberone
Summary: She must have been a comet. Or a star. She brimmed full of the silvery kind of magic one sees only in fairy tales, yet somehow she had it. Just like she had her name, her stride, her blood. To be flawed in her case would only add to her abundant quirks. Much like a little brook, she was magical and sweet. Yet, if all was well with her, she would never be any of these things.
1. Through Cat's Eye

p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="aef63d7e280046548451c73f8a4671f8"As far as anyone could tell, Jane Miller was not the most normal teenage girl. She was tall, some might attribute that to her oddity, and yet, her height was not the only thing off. In the moonlight, her eyes shone silver, brighter in tone than the moon, yet in the day, they gleamed no more than fog. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="818ffa866517b8028e86a9876fe8a63c" She never fell ill, of which her mother truly boasted. According to Jane's grandfather, the Miller's never fell to the common cold because they had warrior blood. Dragon's blood. Jane adored this./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="ea1f7fc6945fe88b29864ec67595bf70" When she was seven, she put her whole heart and soul into learning how to fly, based upon her grand papa's tales. She would run about her summertime lawn, daring all of those little dandelion wishes to push her up to the stars. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="4f42f1223d5ede234ce2c104b177afcf" I do believe that that summer in particular was the first summer we had first noticed her. I daresay I recall walking past her front steps, drinking in the sunny July rays when I saw her. I thought to myself; "My, what a darling little girl. Lovely little freckles, sweet little eyes. Yet a muggle, I presume. Muggles always are extraordinary creatures. Odd, dim, extraordinary creatures. Somehow, this girl feels not quite muggle. More like a moon, or a comet. Those eyes certainly indicate the latter two. "/p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="3a7474ccdba5940bb721d63ef49a2203"And I felt in my heart, that although she may be a more pathetic being, I should still help the poor dear. You should have seen her, dashing about so. Wishing beyond possible imagination, I suppose. So, before the child's eyes swept mine, I gave her a little magic. Just a little, not as much to arouse suspicion, yet enough. With a thought of a charm- the flying one- she was up into the air. Just a little. At that point I was quite well hidden behind the garage shed, for what should happen if a parent came out to see me? Oh, but even so, you should have seen her. The poor thing was so hoping to soar, and I allowed her a few inches, eight at most. When she did, one cannot imagine the smile that that dear child presented. It was almost is if she was born to have magic flow into her bones, for when I stopped her, she did not lower when I meant her to. Instead, she remained up in the air a few moments longer, maybe five, maybe ten. And at that moment, I knew./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="846016399d894868b48fa0ebf2f2635b"This girl did not belong here. /p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="69154a303c3faa1f7abe10d316735ed7"She belonged in a place where magic is learned, where imagination is reality./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="a36e7b424540cc1c2aea73cedf07af9e"Hogwarts./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d682ae708c8de5b38c96368fdea4bdc0"As I knew this, I did not move. I did not run over, I did not shout. Instead, I turned, breathless with excitement, for perhaps I had just found the next great witch. Perhaps she would return our world to normal. Perhaps she would change it for the best. Times do change. Or, perhaps not. Yet I kept walking away from her world. I would have to tell someone, someone to send her home. But at that time, I knew not what to do, so I left./p  
p style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 24px; font-family: 'Source Sans Pro', 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 24px; font-size: 18px; padding: 0px; color: #555555;" data-p-id="d41d8cd98f00b204e9800998ecf8427e" /p 


	2. Jane Grows Up, A Little

Being a teenager isn't great. Pimples are not the thing of the future. Periods? Why did I ever think it was cool? Definitely not the best part of my life. Turning your brother's skin magenta and making your dog float- somebody call an asylum. I'm Jane, and unfortunately, have every problem on that list. This makes me the saddest, most pathetic person alive, not including my Great Aunt Viola, but we won't talk about her. My mother likes to pretend that I don't have this problem, and by problem I'm talking about the floating puppy thing. Or the exploding mattresses. That's happened too. Every time something weird happens, she just blames it on her poor eyesight, pretending no one else can see her flaw of a child. Or she blames the dog. It's o.k though, if she does think of me in some poor light. I've come to terms with my existence. My brother now claims to have severe sunburn, he's been pink for months. I think he's come to terms with me too. Will is three years older than me, he'll be eighteen this fall. He and I are both the products of my mother and father, my father being a carpet salesman, and my mother a pharmacist. She ends up taking a lot of painkillers with the three of us around, it's a good thing she gets a discount. My dad is often away on business trips, buying rare old carpets from every eighty-something wanting extra cash. That's what he says anyway. I'm not so sure. I think that really he just loves to get away from our family, in the same ways that we all do. We truly do adore him though. And my mom. I suppose Will is all right too. It's just so confusing, seeing it all. My problems, I mean. My dad's never seen any of my little issues, but I think that Mom tells him. Well, maybe not the period thing, but I'm sure he's figured it out. Those "lady products" are really noisy! Yet, in all seriousness, they both seem worried, more so than ever. I guess that's cause my mistakes are getting worse. I've tried so hard to control it. Each emotion sparks something, almost like magic-replacing-sleep narcolepsy. Magic. Huh. -So that's my really short chapter, sorry about that! Super tired, I'll probably write more later!- 


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